Unravelling
by elmjuniper
Summary: Deimos knows what her fate is and nothing can stop her from achieving it. Not her pathetic brother or the mother who abandoned her. Not even Zeus himself. At least that's what she thinks until the leader of the Daughter of Artemis stumbles into her life. Somehow their fates are linked together and she will carve her way through anyone who tries to stop her from finding out how.


I LOVE deimos!Kassandra. So much. So obviously I had to write a short fic about it.  
I'm going of canon here quite a bit. If this is not your thing, sorry not sorry. :P  
I'm making Deimos older otherwise things get a bit... I dunno, inappropriate? So I've made her 25ish.  
Also this is an Omegaverse fic where alphas can impregnate omegas. This doesn't replace gender, there's still male/female genders in the omegaverse. Also, mine is a lot less traditional alpha/omega dynamics.

Also, I love Aspasia, I really do, and I really love her as the evil, evil enemy. I think she's a fantastic villain.  
Anyway, hope you enjoy!

**PLEASE NOTE! _THIS STORY WILL ONLY BE UPDATED ON AO3. I'M MIGRATING ALL MY STORIES OVER THERE AS FF IS OLD AND OUT DATED. FIRST CHAPTER WILL BE POSTED HERE CHAPTER 2 IS ALREADY UP ON AO3. PLEASE HEAD ON OVER THERE TO LEAVE KUDOS OR COMMENT THERE. BESIDES POSTING FIRST CHAPTERS OF MY NEW STORIES THIS ACCOUNT WILL BE INACTIVE. _**_** LINK in bio. Username: LMjuniper**_

Hope to see you on AO3!

~Elm

* * *

_The world is a dark place. One that has been thrust into chaos. Dangers lurk everywhere. The world needs help. It needs someone to guide its hand. To bring order. It needs you, Deimos._

**Ω**

Humans. So fragile. Weak. Unlike her, child of the mountain, a demigod. The blood that flows through her veins has been blessed by Zeus himself to give her strength. The strength to survive the cult's rigorous training. To endure when others would have perished.

When others fall around her she prevails, the smell of blood and fear fuelling her. Pain stirring her into a frenzied bloodlust. She has already suffered through worse. Come what may come.

Days and night without food or water, and interrupted sleep. Beatings until she could no longer walk. For as long as she could remember until one day there were no more tears. No begging for mercy. No crying for a mother that would never come. That was the day she became Deimos. The most powerful warrior in all of Greece. In the world. A world which shall soon kneel before her. Nothing will stop her. The world will fear her just like the cultists do.

"Deimos." A sultry voice purrs from behind her. "Are you going to make me wait all night?"

She turns around and observes the naked woman standing in front of her. She's pretty with a diamond shaped face, cunning eyes and dark-brown curls. In public the woman keeps it in a neat hairstyle, as married women should, but now it tangles freely across her sleek shoulders.

Deimos lets her eyes wander down the omega's body. Across the ample breasts, then downwards and below the bellybutton to the dark hair between her thighs. Lifting her gaze she nesteles a finger into the dark curls. It's damp and warm there, and the small bundle of nerves reacts to her touch.

"And what of your husband? Where is he tonight?" She drags a purposeful finger between the folds. It, in return, draws a moan from the woman.

"He's busy elsewhere." She breaths as her body gives a shake. But she doesn't touch Deimos. Just like the other cultist she knows that _ no one _touches Deimos. Not even the woman who gets bedded by the demigod.

"And so you come running to me like the dockside whore you once was."

The slap comes, just as expected, hard and blazing. Deimos snarls in excitement, her abdomen suddenly pooling with heat.

"Call me that one more time." The woman's voice is as sharp as a knife's edge and Deimos laughs. She does so enjoy it when the woman talks like that. Another slap burns across her face and she feels herself grow hard with need.

One hard shove and the woman lands on her back, the big pillows softening her fall. Deimos follows shortly after, landing with her face between the legs that spread wide in anticipation for her. "Make sure your husband doesn't look between your legs tonight." She sucked at the inside of the delicate thighs, leaving a red mark.

"So long as you keep your marks away from my chest and neck he won't know a thing." The woman's breath hitches in her throat and her hands dig themselves into Deimos thick hair. She drags her tongue between the omega's wet folds. Tasting her like she's never done it before. "And careful where you spill tonight. We were lucky last time."

"Oh, but Aspasia," Deimos slips a finger inside, "there is no sweeter thing than feeling you around me as I come."

**Ω**

"Thank you. I needed that," Aspasia sighs and closes her eyes.

Adjusting her gauntlets Deimos watches her where she lays spent, and satisfied. What would the other cultists think if they saw their supposed leader like this? In front of the others Aspasia was the very face of calm. The leader was all about control, but underneath the false layer of serenity swirled anger and passion. Like the treacherous waters of the Styx.

Aspasia, the most beautiful face of Athenian politics, people said. She may look like a gentle wallflower where she dilly dallied with the elites of Greece. But there was nothing gentle about the woman. Deimos had enough bite marks and scratches to prove it. Aspasia's lust was never gentle, never soft. She got enough of that from her husband, she'd say scornfully.

"You said you had a plan for Athens." Deimos says already back in her armour. She has no problem with nudity but she doesn't like to get caught off guard. And last time Perikles had arrived home early, tired after the night's endless meddling with politicians, Deimos had to scuttle out the window. She didn't care if Perikles found out or not, but Aspasia is adamant on that point. No one can find out she is the cult's leader. It could weaken her position within Athens.

Deimos could respect that. She needed Aspasia in the midst of the wolves. Meddling, and manipulating.

"Perikles is to fall ill very soon. When that happens Kleon will be the new Athenian ruler. But if people are to accept him, they might need a nudge." Aspasia plucks a grape from the bedside table.

"And how are you going to make sure Perikles is taken out of the picture?"

"Well," the older woman tapped her lower lip almost thoughtfully, but Deimos was sure it was done entirely for effect. "I was considering Hemlock poison."

"Don't be stupid." Deimos looks back at her. "They will know it's Hemlock."

A smile spreads across the leader's lips, brilliant and sinister. "Yes, Deimos." She gets up from the bed and walks over to Deimos, a purple grape pinched between her fingers. "That is where you come in."

Deimos snorts. Of course. "You want me to kill him."

Light-brown eyes, sooted by charcoal narrow. "Nothing can stand in our way. Not even the people we love. Do you understand?"

She shrugs, the concept of love foreign and strange to her.

"You think me so cold-hearted? That I don't love my husband? I do." She steps closer.

"But you have me do things to you he never would." Deimos truly does not understand this thing Aspasia called love. It made people weak and it made no sense to her. It didn't have to. Love had no place in her life anyway.

"He is getting in our way to bring order to this world. Perikles must die. And you will be the one to kill him." She brings her hand up towards Deimos face and pops the grape in her mouth.

Deimos bites down on the sweet grape as Aspasia leans forwards and brushes her lips against hers. "When?"

"When the Eagle Bearer is back." The leader's breath is hot on Deimos lips.

The Eagle Bearer. The misthios who claimed to be her brother. He'd pretended to know her, know who she was. She let out a hard scoff. What was it he'd called her? Kassandra. A weakling's name. The misthios seemed so soft. He'd reached out for her and she'd slapped his hand away. No one touches Deimos. He looked like a wolf's pup about to be slain when he asked her to come look for mater with him. Like children in a bard's story. She knew what Alexios had done. What they all did that day on the mountain. The day she was reborn. Cast to her death. Reborn from stones.

"I'll deal with him."

"You are not to hurt Alexios." Aspasia grabs her chin between her thumb and index finger. "Remember what I said."

Deimos slaps her hand away. Hard. "Don't…"

The leader holds up her hands in the air, a slow, dangerous smile growing on her lips, the shine of hunger back in her eyes.

"You are to kill Perikles and make Alexios suffer. Just like you have. Wear him down. But you are not to harm him. We still need him. Do you understand?"

She scowls at the naked woman with her hands in the air.

Aspasia eyes narrow as she bites into her lip and reaches out for Deimos' neck. Her fingers curl around it, just below the defined jawline. Then she squeezes hard. "What of your brother?"

Deimos bares her teeth at the small woman. "_ Pain _is the only brother I have."

"Show me."

**Ω**

Deimos. His sister is Deimos, the cult's greatest weapon. The memory of seeing her again is so vivid it feels like he's still there as she kicks the brazier that topples over with a loud crash. Pieces of molten wood crackle and spark against her skin as she walks right through it, her face calm but deadly. She doesn't even flinch, but tosses the head she's carrying in her hands into the air. It lands with a sickening wet crunch on the stone floor then rolls to stop by the cultists' feet.

Alexios hadn't quite believed the cultists when they spoke of his sister being alive. He even thought that maybe they had it all mixed up. But as he watches the young woman who descends the stairs, there is no doubt that she is his sister. She looks so much like their mater. The same eyes, and nose.

"Elpenor is dead." Her voice is eerily calm, but it teeters on an edge. One that's frayed, and uncontrolled. He sinks to the back of the crowd but he cannot take his eyes off of her. The pale, almost white skin, the gaunt cheeks and hollow dark eyes. Eyes that are cold, distant and full of hate. They drag themselves slowly along the cultists' masks. Penetrating the mask with their piercing, hard glare.

"One of you is a traitor."

Will she be able to single him out? Of course she had. She was like a hound that had caught on to the scent of a scared hare. But she'd let him go. He'd whispered her name, quietly, and she flinched looking at him. With doubt? Anger? He could not say.

They meet again, but each time she lets him walk away. Not without trying to challenge him, but so far he's refused to fight her. Until last night. The first time he truly met his sister in battle. Her eyes shone, bright and full of anger. Of hatred. Hate that seemed to fuel her on the battlefield as she cut through her enemies. Deimos was unstoppable. A monster. But she's still his baby sister. She is still Kassandra and he promised mater he would bring Kassandra home. He will _not _fail his sister again.

Footsteps thud across the small courtyard outside his cell drawing his attention away from his thoughts. He lifts his gaze to see his sister. She walks like she's heading for a enemy, about to take him down. He supposes that's not entirely inaccurate. Despite his attempt to talk sense into her, Kassandra sees him as the enemy.

"I don't know what you were thinking back there." She folds her arms across her chest, brows furrowing as he gets up.

"What? Trying to save you?" He's tired, his head throbs with pain and he's getting frustrated with her resisting his attempts to save her.

She scoffs. "Why are you here?"

He grabs the metal bars and pulls himself closer to her. "Kassandra, I was trying to save you."

"My name is Deimos!" She snarls with a scowl. "I told you to stay out of my way, but here you are and I want to know why."

He knows she doesn't like to be touched. He made the mistake of trying to put his hand on her arm once and she nearly cut it off. There's still a thick scar on his wrist to remember her by. She looks even paler than the first time they met. Her lips, almost purple, and the dark circles around her eyes makes her look sick.

"Are you alright?" He holds out his hand. Not far enough to touch her, but enough so that she may touch it if she wants to. He wants to make sure she's alright. He wants to take care of her, keep her safe.

She stares at his hand, but sniff as if she's having a cold, her fist opening and closing. He thinks it's what she does when she doesn't understand what's going on. She'd worn the same expression in the cult's hideout after seeing his memories. Her eyes dart back up to his something flashing in them for the briefest of moments. But he can't tell what it is exactly.

"Tell me what you know."

He tries to keep the frown off his face. Why would she ask him such thing? He tries to read her expression but she looks at him with a flat, unreadable expression.

"Tell me." She insists.

"Why not ask your precious cult?" She flinches at his words and this time he doesn't bother to hide his frown. "They're not telling you everything, are they?" Her frown deepens and she scowls even harder. She looks just like pater—Nikolaous—when he knew he was losing an argument with mater. If only she knew how much like their parents she looks like right now. He chuckles despite himself and draws her ire. She grabs his tunic and yank him hard into the bars.

" _Why _are you laughing?" she hisses.

"Sorry, sorry." He holds his hands up in the air. "You just look a lot like our parents."

"You're lying." She shoves him so hard he stumbles backwards.

"If you're asking me what I know, it means the cult isn't telling you everything."

She laughs then, taunting him. "You think me a puppet?"

It's his turn to cross his arms. "I think they're using you."

"They _raised _me. Unlike our dear mater and pater who abandoned me."

"Is that what they told you happened?"

" _You _confirmed it." She points her finger at him then at the side of her own head. "With your memories."

" _They _took you away from us!" He hears his own vice rise in frustration. Why wasn't she listening to him? "Mater went to look for you, she found you and brought you to the temple. But the priests, _the cultists _, told her you died."

"No!" She shakes her head violently, eyes dark and even though he's the one behind bars, Kassandra is the one who paces back and forth like a caged, wild animal. "No, you're lying to me. You're trying to—"

"Listen to me," he says calmly the same way he speaks to Phobos when he's agitated. "You know there's something they're not telling you, why else would you ask me? Get away from them before it's too late. You don't have to come with me, but you and I, we're just soldiers to them. Expendable. We have no place in the world as they want it shaped."

She stops dead in her tracks. "Then I guess I wasn't meant to belong anywhere."

"What's going on here?" Kleon, the man who had opposed Perikles back in Athens asks. His square face is hard and suspicious as he walks up towards them.

"It's nothing." Kassandra dismisses him.

"I could hear your shouting from the wall." Kelon's lips purse in disapproval.

"I said it was nothing," Kassandra says, her voice clipped and terse.

"Then leave. Now. This was not your action to take girl."

Her snarl is so ferocious when it comes out, the hairs on Alexios neck stand. She grabs Kleon by his neck, her fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Kassandra!" Alexios barks when she pulls her head back. She doesn't listen but slams her forehead into Kleon's nose that breaks with an unpleasant crack.

"I. Am. _Not _ . Your puppet." She spits blood at the man who lies on the ground clutching his nose. "And you are _not _my master."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He holds his hand up in front of him in an effort to keep her away from him. She spits at him again then turns around and walks away.

"What have you done to my sister?" Alexios grabs the bars and growls down at Kelon.

"The person you think she is, died a long time ago." The Athenian brushes himself off as he stands back up. He sneers when his eyes meet Alexios.

"No." Alexios shakes his head. "There is still good in her no matter what you did."

Laughter bubbles up from Kelon's chest, his battleworn face crinkling up in amusement. "Oh." He exhales when his laughter dies out. "Imagine a small child crying for the mater and pater she so desperately wants. And each time, her trainer _clips _her tiny, fragile wings." He mimics snapping a twig in half. "Broken enough times, even children will stop longing for a family."

"You maggots!" Rage races through Alexios and he shakes the metal bars. They clang pathetically drawing another laugh from Kleon.

"You can break every single bone in Deimos body and she will still be fighting. I made sure of that. She does not feel pain. And she certainly does not feel _love _. There is _nothing _ good left inside of her. Just hate."

**Ω**

" _Don't _hold back," Aspasia growls into her mouth where she straddles Deimos, digging her nails into her shoulders. She rolls her hips against Deimos in lustful, slow movements.

"I am not your puppet, don't tell me what to do," Deimos snarls as she pins Aspasia's hands together behind her back. Then with a determined tug Deimos pulls them down towards her own lap. The leader's back arches, tiny moans and whimpers falling from her lips which each pump of Deimos hips. She holds nothing back, one hand splayed across the taut stomach, below the navel, thumb pressing on Aspasia's small bundle of nerves. But the leader manages to wring one of her hands free and she buries it in Deimos thick hair then tug hard exposing the pale neck filled with scars.

Beautiful pain flares at the back of her head and she laughs in-between breaths. Then she releases Aspasia's hands and let her free hand grab the leaders silky, smooth throat. She squeezes, not too hard, just enough to add pressure. Aspasia's head falls backwards, her walls clamping hard, throbbing, and squeezing around Deimos until she tenses hard. Deimos knows the omega's body by now and she gives one last hard pump pinning Aspasia flush against herself until they both go limp.

She rests her head on Deimos shoulder. "What had you so angry this time?"

"Nothing." Deimos shrugs as Aspasia lifts herself off her.

"So this has nothing to do with your brother?" She slips into the purple chiton and smiles slyly when she notices Deimos expression. "Come now, Deimos. We both know you've never objected to being used by me before."

"He is not my brother. He's just another mercenary." She pulls the dark tunic over her head.

"Well, that's too bad because I've arranged a gift for you." Aspasia dips her chin towards her chest giving Deimos one last look before turning to leave.

A..._ gift? _She Now she really was perplexed. No one simply gave her gifts. And no matter, she had everything she needed. Her armour and her blades. But Aspasia had brought her a gift? Or was it just another one of her games? The woman did have a unhealthy obsession with games after all.

"Fine," she said before Aspasia had reached the door. "You have my attention. What is it?"

"Just remember Deimos. The easiest way to kill weeds is to cut it by its root." The leader doesn't stop simply walks out the door, but not before Deimos can hear her talk to someone outside. "You can let her in."

A woman wearing a hunter's outfit is shoved inside, her hands tied in front of her. She snarls and bares her teeth at the man who pushed her. Then she turns to face Deimos, hazel eyes hard and defiant.

"Whatever it is you want I will _not _give it to you."

Deimos pulls her head back and crosses her arms. This wasn't usually how people addressed her. "And what exactly do you think it is I want?"

The woman doesn't answer, probably to keep from giving Deimos any ideas should she not have them herself already.

"Fine. Then tell me who you are and why you're here."

"I am Daphnae, leader of the Daughters of Artemis." The Daughter tilts her chin upwards, eyes blazing with unbridled anger. Deimos almost smiles. Enjoying the fury written over the woman's face. Deimos can relate to it. Can understand it.

"The Daughters of Artemis…" Why had Aspasia brought her a Daughter? Aspasia had mentioned cutting the root. Was she to kill the Daughter? What did it have to do with her brother? She turns away from the Daughter and walks up to the window, her gaze falling on the courtyard below. "Have you heard of the misthios who carries an eagle?"

"The Eagle Bearer?"

Deimos turns around to look at the tanned, muscular woman. "You know him." She doesn't wait for the Daughter to answer, she doesn't need to. Walking up to her slowly, studying her meticulously Deimos catches the omega's scent. "You're an omega."

This time the Daughter shrinks back. She must be able to scent her alpha smell. She walks up close to her then and sniffs her neck. The Daughter tenses when the tip of her nose brushes against her neck. She's not been marked. Her scent, sweet and intoxicating fills Deimos senses. She doesn't understand it but a sudden urge to mark the omega rushes through her. Like a flash of lightning striking her. She quickly retreats. She is Deimos. A demigod. She wanted to mark no one. Certainly not something so simple as a human.

"Tell me who he is to you and I might let you live."

The only reply she gets is a silent, angry glare. Why wouldn't this woman talk? Doesn't she know how powerful Deimos is? She should crush the Daughter, teach her a lesson. _Clip her wings _. She purses her lips then steps up close to the Daughter when two hands, tied together comes up between them, palms pressed hard against Deimos chest.

_No one touches Deimos! _But instead of the anger and disgust that flares to life when someone touches her, a tingle darts through her chest. She looks down at the hands that press against her. What was this pull she felt? Lifting her gaze she found a set of eyes blinking back at her. Could the Daughter feel it as well?

"You are not my brother's mate," Deimos whispers more to herself than anything.

"Your brother? The Beast Slayer is your brother?" The Daughter's forehead puckers.

"Killing you would mean nothing to him. So why did The Ghost order me to kill you?" She studies the square jaw, the rounded nose tip and soft lips. She's never once met this woman before and yet she feels familiar. Like she's spent countless nights and days with her. "Who are you really? Why do I feel like I know you?"

"I don't know." It's but a whisper.

"But you feel it too?"

The Daughter nods. "I cannot explain it. I don't know you, yet by Artemis I could swear I do."

"The artefact. It will know." She looks up from the Daughter and over at the door. Aspasia got all her knowledge from the artefact. She must have seen something. And the artefact would allow Deimos to know what it was. Aspasia was hiding something. She always did, but something the Eagle Bearer had said played on Deimos' mind.

"Artefact?"

"You're coming with me." She grabbed the Daughter by the shoulder. The odd sensations crept through her again, her palm recognising the soft skin underneath it. She watched how her hand, as if acting on its own accord, gently caressed the skin leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. _By Hades, what is going on? _She snatched her hand away, the Daughter staring at her, eyes round, brows creased.

"Why?" The Daughter refused to move.

"Because I said so, just don't touch me again."

"I _didn't _," the Daughter snapped back just as annoyed as Deimos shouldered past her.

"Move." She jerked the ropes around the Daughter's wrists. Just enough to make the blasted woman move her legs.

"Where are we going?"

"Can you _stop _talking?" Deimos glared at the Daughter who'd stopped once more, tied hands held up in the air in protest. "Or I will make you."

"You can threaten me with death." The Daughter took a step closer, eyes locked with Deimos. "But you want to know who I am to you." Another step. "You're not going to kill me for you will never know if you do."

The Daughter was so close to her she could smell the a faint scent of wild flowers. "We are going to Phokis. I need you to see what this all means, if I get the answers I'm looking for I will let you live."

" _If? _"

"Who knows," she bared her teeth at the Daughter, "I might kill you before then."

The Daughter studied her then, lips slightly parted, impossibly inviting. "You say that, but your eyes say differently."

She snapped her eyes away then. "Let's find a horse before I changed my mind."

**Ω**

She watches Deimos from her window, her hands gripping the desk so hard she thinks it might splinter into her hands. No one touches Deimos. No one but her.

The Daughters fingertips brushes against Deimos jawline and she doesn't even notice. Deimos is Aspasia's creation. Chrysis may have raised her before handing her off to Kleon, but Aspasia was the one who had truly reached Deimos. She was the one who whispered in her ears, encouraged her to reach for greatness.

This leader of the Daughters needed to be eliminated. Aspasia had seen it in the artefact what would happen if she didn't. The Eagle Bearer would choose the leader as his mate. A new child would be born into the bloodline. A child that would rise to greatness along with the tribe. A child that would start a war with the new order Aspasia had seen in the visions. A supreme ruler. But if Deimos disposed of the Daughter the visions would never come true.

White hot fury courses through her as her gaze trails the hands that press themselves against Deimos chest. She wants to break something, scream with rage. Deimos was hers. _Hers _. She was the one who controlled Deimos. She was the one had told Deimos that killing the Daughter would deliver a devastating blow to her brother. Yet the Daughter lived.

"Follow them." She turns to the sage standing in the doorway behind her. "I don't care if you do it yourself or who you send to do it. But make sure Deimos kills the Daughter."

"And if she doesn't?" the sage asks.

"Then you bring her back and I'll deal with Deimos myself."

**TBC on AO3**


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